Journey
by erm31323
Summary: Written for the Finals round of the QLFC - The Elder Wand's feeling about its journey through the centuries, told from its own point of view.


**A/N - Written for the Finals of the QLFC. The final round was about making non-sentient objects sentient and my prompt was a wand. So this is told from the Elder Wand's point of view. **

**I want to say thank you to all of my lovely teammates. Finals again, amazing! :)**

* * *

It laid in the darkness, cool and quiet, waiting. There had been times like these over the years, although they were few, where it had not been expected to perform. It usually did not mind the respite, as long as the one that came next was worthy. Although this time its rest was different. It felt…incomplete.

There had been many in its long life, some more adept and skilled than others, some only hiding behind its power, never remarkable enough on their own. Those were always defeated quickly and it would move on to a new master. And there were those that possessed it and used it, but it never quite felt an affinity for. It was with those that it often spent time in the darkness. But then, then there were those that did extraordinary things, complex magic that both fascinated and terrified, but extraordinary all the same. This was when it felt the most alive.

It could not remember exactly when it came to be or how long it had been, it did not measure time the same way that men did. It had first been part of a bigger consciousness, of what, it could not name, but it had been more than it was now. It had felt an immediate bonding with the first, the one that had fashioned it. It had not lasted long before moving on to someone else, but the first was not forgotten. There were few that had held the power of the first and could wield it as well.

There were those who wanted only to study its power. These were times that it became restless, used only sparingly and more commonly. Still magic greater than could come from another to be sure, but not what made it hum with satisfaction.

It had heard the names given to it by man, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, but these meant nothing. It knew not what death was, except that it always passed to another after. It was only now that it had not happened. Death, as man called it, had come to the great wizard that it had spent so many long years with and yet it had not gone to another. It was still here. It had felt a shift away from this wizard to another, but the bond had not been completed. It had passed through other hands that it had felt nothing for before it was set to rest with its previous wizard.

It was difficult this time in the dark. It craved its master and while it still felt something for the one it laid upon, it was not the same as it had been. There was something missing, something it would not have unless it was claimed by the victor or won by the next.

And so it waited.

* * *

The wait had ended and it was in another's hands. Not hands that it belonged in, however. It had felt another shift, away from the half-bonded, but once again, it had not been claimed. In the hands of its current owner, magic once again passed through it, but it did not feel whole. It would perform, of course, and the magic was exceptional, as always, but it was not the same as with a bonded. It did not hum, did not flow, did not feel a particular kinship with its owner. Its owner sensed this as well and there were fits of rage and bouts of fury.

It was made to perform again and again and it was one of the only times it wished it could speak the language of man, to explain and save itself from its own misery. There was no satisfaction as before, it felt…wrong. It did not belong to the wizard it currently served and would never live up to its full potential as long as it was tied to him. And so it waited and did what was asked of it and nothing more.

* * *

It could feel it, the faint string of the bond that had not yet been sealed. Its master was nearby, it could feel him, its loyalty stirred, but it was not claimed. It was still held by the other. And then, it was raised against its master. It could feel the telltale magic rushing through it, the magic that would sever its bond with its master and give it to another, just as it had so many times before. But even as the magic hit the target, it knew it had not been successful.

The one that held it still had no mastery over it. It should have passed with that magic, but it had not. The bond with the other was still there. It itched to be held in the hand of its real master, to complete the bond and begin its new journey. But it did not, was not given or taken, simply remained with the pretender.

This had not happened before and it did not like it. This was not the way of things. Its magic became more erratic and less powerful. The magic that flowed through it rarely hit its target and it could feel the wizard's anger grow. And then, there, its master was near again. And this time, this time, the bond was completed. It hummed in satisfaction as it slid into its true master's hand.

It could feel the power in this one, the power it had felt so infrequently before, the power of the first and the power of the one it had been with the longest. Oh yes, it would do great things for this wizard, amazing and wonderful things. They would be unstoppable.

Its first act was to repair another of its kind. This confused it, even more so when it could feel the hum from the other as its master grasped it. Its master spoke to the other powerful one and then it was put back into the darkness. First with its master for what felt like no time at all and then with the other, the one it had been with the longest.

And so it waited.

* * *

It did not know how long it had lain here in the darkness, but it was far longer than it ever had before. It finally felt a shift again and then…nothing. There was no other. It was done.


End file.
